


And Visions

by Vivian



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 02:58:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3712243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivian/pseuds/Vivian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>—What worlds do you hold and suffocate in the cradle of your ribs?</p><p>His brother's voice is gentle, yet no less mocking. Now Balem turns. Titus stands, an aureola behind his head. His smile is left to dimness and Balem is glad for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Visions

Darkness lies before him. The black wastes, the not-matter. Where for a thousand years no light will penetrate, nor hold dominion.

He stands in his chambers in front of the tall windows with their pointed arches. Delicate mullions end in cross-ribbed vaults some 128 feet above him. Silence. Crepuscular light. It seems woven into the air. Such a contrast to the cold, sharp blackness outside. Something so old, if old can describe the absence of existence. The void.

 

Quietly the door opens. A fresh waft of air. Steps.

Balem does not turn around. He knows it is Titus.

—What worlds do you hold and suffocate in the cradle of your ribs?

His brother's voice is gentle, yet no less mocking. Now Balem turns. Titus stands, an aureola behind his head. His smile is left to dimness and Balem is glad for it. Too radiant is his brother's smile, too much the reflection of their mother's. Titus is the only one of them who has so obviously inherited part of her features, her gestures even. The way he holds himself. And though Titus is cunning and mustn't be underestimated, he does not deserve to bear her likeness. No-one does.

—None you would understand, Balem says leisurely.

Titus comes closer. A glint in his pale eyes. A desire igniting. Balem has seen it so many times. The want. It is such a petty thing. Then again it is all his brother knows. Passion after passion carries him through the ages like storm-winds tossing around a leaflet. He is ever their prisoner. Dependent, addicted. A slave to whim and fancy. Yet there is some sort of strength he has mustered to attain. A pull towards him. Even Kalique cannot resist it. She sleeps with Titus every now and then, Balem knows as much. It's uncertain who is using whom.

—How can you be so sure? Titus murmurs and his fingertips graze Balem's cheek. He does not move. Only looks at his brother.

—Mother should arrive soon, Balem says instead of an answer.

—Oh yes. I have missed her dearly.

Something ugly stirs inside him. He wants to lay his hands around Titus' throat, push his thumbs to his Adam's apple. How good it would feel to see his features contort in agony. Hear his desperate gasps again.

—You dream of violence, Titus whispers as if revealing a secret. His fingers move from Balem's cheek to where his throat is not covered by his collar.

—You know nothing of my dreams, Balem says quietly, strainedly.

—Oh, I know enough, he says and leans in. Balem can feel his breath on his face.

—You dream of her…

Titus' head snaps to the side. Only then he feels the tingling on the back of his hand. The imprint of his knuckles and fingers on Titus' cheek. Slowly his brother turns his head. A few strands of hair have fallen over his brow, veil his gaze. Titus lips curl upwards. Balem can feel his own heartbeat rough and hard against his ribs.

—Go, Balem says.

Titus steps closer again, tilting his head, presenting his unhurt cheek.

—Why don't you hit me again?

—Go.

—Do it.

This time Balem takes a step closer. He seizes Titus' shroud in his fist. 

—Is that what you want? he hisses. He can hear Titus' breath quicken.

—Kiss me, Titus whispers, eyes glazed, mouth eager.

Balem lets go of him. Takes a step back. 

—Leave.

For a moment there is silence between them. Breathlessness. Streaks of light on Titus's fingers as he raises them. He caresses his temple. Such cruelty in his touch. He truly is their mother's child. 

Then Titus does leave. Before he opens the door, he glances back at Balem. His smile is sharp and clear. And Balem wonders what would've happened had he done it. 

He is left to silence. To the void. He hears his own thumping pulse. 

 

At dinner, Titus pays him no heed. He sits next to Kalique who glances at him delicately. They're all to engulfed by their mother's presence. They speak of business matters and discuss the company's profits in rough lines. Tomorrow they will pay more attention to detail, but tonight everyone is weary. They say their good-nights early.

 

When he lies in bed later that night he dreams of them. Of mother. She is soft and hard. She breathes life into him as she cuts his throat while he is inside her. Of Titus. Who's lips stretch, he is the morrow where mother is night, she bears Titus at dawn in all her red light dousing the clouds. She kills Balem at dusk, he buries her at noon. He is underwater and holds no breath but does not drown. 

Balem wakes in tangled sheets. Quick heartbeat. Cold sweat. His fingers tremble. Outside the void beckons him near. He swallows and closes his eyes again.

 

No more sleep comes to him that night, only whispers and visions.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick thing I started last night and finished today. Unbeta'd. This family kills me.  
> I actually wrote this to let Balem and Titus kiss but oh well.  
> Please let me know what you think!


End file.
